Jade and Jules were looking at her as though they were seeing an entirely different woman to the Nicole they were familiar with, eyes avid with curiosity but mouths firmly buttoned until she opened up. Which she was not about to do. The door was shut on Joaquin Luis Sola.
“There’s no going back,” she stated flatly. “I don’t live at that address anymore.”
“The one you shared with him?” Jade quickly speculated.
“It wasn’t a place of sharing. It was a place of possession. Always on his terms.”
“Bad place,” Jules muttered sympathetically.
Nicole nodded. “I live in a different space now.”
“Maybe you’ve made your current space too tight,” Jade posed seriously. “What if he no longer lives at that address, either? Time and timing—” she wriggled her fingers “—very tricky things. Shifting sands, different circumstances, revolving doors…how long ago was it when you and Quin were an item?”
Jade had not been in Australia then, but if Nicole pinpointed the time it would be like handing her friend a bone she would gnaw at with intolerable persistence. Jade was far too adept at putting two and two together.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, shrugging as she stood up from the table. “Distance has not made the heart grow fonder so just let this one go. Okay? I’m off to the powder room.”
“Seems a terrible waste,” she heard Jade mutter in a disgruntled tone.
Nicole made good her escape, hoping the subject of Quin would not be revived when she returned. Even so, the fun had gone out of the evening. Just knowing he was here made her feel tense, her nerves prickling with the sense of a dangerous threat to the life she’d made without him.
She wished she could just walk away right now, but leaving the club would signal a vulnerability she didn’t want to reveal, not to Jade and Jules, and certainly not to Quin Sola. If he was watching, if he came after her…no, she had to act as though she was totally impervious to his presence.
The powder room provided a safe refuge though she could only take a brief respite there if she was not to give the impression of hiding. The place was crowded—a queue for toilet cubicles and a crush of women along the vanity bench; washing hands, repairing make-up, restoring hairstyles. Nicole joined the queue and tried to block memories of Quin from crawling through her mind by eavesdropping on others’ conversations. Ironically, not even here was she free of him.
“So how goes it with Quin Sola?”
The question came loud and clear through the babble of general chat, drawing Nicole’s startled gaze to a pretty brunette in red who was looking archly at a tall beautiful blonde, definitely out of the same mould as Paris Hilton, dressed in a second skin blue mini-dress and practising a sexy pout in the mirror.
“Oh, I don’t know that he’s worth having,” she drawled.
“Not worth having! The hottest trader in town? Everyone with any money is using his financial services company. The guy has made billions. And he’s an eye-candy hunk, as well.”
His company…billions…not the star player for an international bank anymore, Nicole realised. Somewhere along the past five years Quin must have moved to being his own man, no doubt accumulating far more personal wealth by working on his terms.
“Wow! Point me in his direction,” someone eagerly requested, triggering a cheerful chorus of “Me, too,” from other chance listeners.
The outburst was ignored.
“I really don’t need his money, Nina, and going to bed with a cold fish does not appeal,” the blonde said in a bored tone.
The brunette in red grinned. “You mean you made a move on him and he didn’t bite.”
Mistake, Nicole thought sardonically. Quin made the moves. He was programmed that way. The blonde shrugged as though she didn’t care, although her ego had to be suffering some damage. She was wrong about Quin’s coldness in bed but his decision-making was icily absolute, no melting around the edges when his mind was made up.
Until we meet again…
A convulsive shiver ran down Nicole’s spine as the thought struck her that Quin might have been cold to the blonde because he’d already fixed his sights on herself. What if he didn’t accept the rejection she’d just handed out? Five years ago she had fled to Europe to break all connection with him, but she couldn’t do that now. She could only hope he would change his mind about pursuing another meeting, leave her alone.
The woman behind her nudged her towards the most recently vacated toilet cubicle. Nicole hadn’t even realised she now headed the queue. Nor had she noticed the two women who’d been talking about Quin make their exit from the powder room but they were gone. She hurried forward and closed herself into the small private space, wishing she could close out all the worries whirling around her mind.
From what she’d heard, Quin could easily afford to lend her the money needed to keep the dance school afloat. He might even do it if he got what he wanted from her. If it was only sex…
Nicole shocked herself with the treacherous desire that had prompted that thought. It was so stupid to want Quin for anything. He’d stripped her of self-esteem once. To even dally with an idea that would give him the power to do it again, was just plain crazy.
But she would be using him this time…using him to meet her needs. A vengeful streak in her whispered this was a justifiable course. After all, Quin put a money value on everything. Why shouldn’t she?
A controlled situation could be set up—no intrusion on her real life. She wouldn’t be hurt by confusing sex with love again. Not with Quin. In fact, there was a lot of savage appeal in turning the tables on him, only giving what she was prepared to give…on her terms!
The big question was…how much did Quin want her?
CHAPTER THREE
QUIN’S mind and body were firing on all cylinders, energised by the excitement of a challenging chase. He wasn’t about to let Nicole escape him this time. However many obstacles she put in his path, he was determined on getting past them, breaking down her resistance and making her his woman again.
What he needed now was some information—where she was working, how her daily schedule ran. It would be easy enough then to set up another chance meeting so he could reinforce the mutual attraction she was trying to deny, work on it, build the sparks into a flame that would burn up her opposition to any future together.
He caught sight of Tony watching him make his way back to the party. Quin had learnt in his four years of professional and personal association with him, very little escaped Tony Fisher’s notice. Whether it was taking care of legal matters or his keen observation of people, the man was invariably on the ball. He was short and rather stocky, but big with personality, aided by an infectious smile, wickedly merry brown eyes and a wild mop of chestnut curls framing his good-humoured face.
Having sidled around his boisterous guests, he caught Quin just before he joined them. “Trust you to pick out the expert in this crowd,” he remarked, nodding in Nicole’s direction.
For once, Quin wasn’t
